Nicholas Smith - Extinction Edge

Chow, Jinx, and Horn nodded simultaneously.

“You said those things won’t follow us into the smoke, right?” Beckham asked and then remembered they’d been followed into the tunnels.

“Correct,” Chow said. “Except…” Clearly the man was thinking the same thing Beckham was.

“Maybe they came from a different location. Maybe they didn’t follow us after all,” Beckham said. “Do you guys have any smoke grenades? We can form a perimeter around the group when we get topside.”

“Good idea,” Jinx said. “I’ll distribute a couple to each man.”

Beckham paused to think. Was he missing anything? Was this the best way? His gut said it was. He swept his gaze over the tunnel, listening to the coughs and whimpers of the civilians. His eyes stopped on the veteran with the blades. He was standing behind Jinx, eavesdropping from the looks of it.

“What’s your name, Marine?” Beckham said, gesturing the man forward. He wore a pair of shorts and a black T-shirt with Semper Fi across the chest.

“Joe Fitzpatrick, but everyone calls me Fitz.”

Beckham smiled. “You want to fight, Fitz?”

“Thought you would never ask,” the man said with a wide grin.

“Jinx, get this Marine a weapon,” Beckham said. “Whatever he wants.”

“M27,” Fitz requested.

Beckham looked at his watch. The birds would be en route now. It was time to start moving.

Kate opened the door to Riley’s room quietly, just in case he was sleeping. An energetic voice greeted her.

“Hey, Doc! Hit the lights, will you?”

She smiled and flipped the switch. Riley was sitting up in bed, his arms folded and his hair sticking out in all directions.

“You’re awake early,” she said. “You’ve just been sitting here in the dark?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Too worried about Beckham and Horn. I still can’t believe they went to Bragg on their own.” Riley pounded his sheets with a hand and centered his light blue eyes on her. They were focused, alert. He looked like he’d been up for hours.

“I couldn’t sleep either.” Kate sighed. “Plus, I’m waiting on more test results.”

Riley flattened his wild hair with a pat of his hand. Kate chuckled when it puffed back out.

“Here, I brought you something,” she said, tossing him a copy of The Forever War by Joe Haldeman.

He caught the paperback with one swipe and then stared at the cover with arched brows. “A book?”

“Not just any book.” Kate took a seat in one of the chairs next to his bed. “I hear this is quite the story. Aliens, soldiers, and sex. You should enjoy it.”

Riley quickly thumbed through the pages. “Um, I don’t see any pictures. What page is the sex on?”

Kate rolled her eyes, but could not suppress a smile. “Start from page one.”

He laughed and set it on his bed. “Thanks. Seriously, I appreciate it.”

“No problem.”

“So why are you really here? You got word about Beckham and Horn?”

Kate pulled her chair closer to his bed. “Three Black Hawks are en route to Bragg. Beckham found fifty survivors, including Horn’s girls.”

“What about Sheila?”

Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

“God,” Riley said. He used his fingers to trace a cross on his chest and then bowed his head in a whispered prayer.

She put a hand on his bed. When he finally looked up, she said, “But two other Delta soldiers made it. Jinx and Chow. Do you know them?”

“Jinx and Chow!” He winced in pain as he repositioned his casts. “That’s great news. Didn’t think anyone could have survived.”

“Me too,” Kate said.

He brushed something away from his eye and straightened his back. “Thanks for coming to see me, Kate. And for the news. Sitting on the sidelines is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“I know,” Kate said. “Seems unfair, doesn’t it? Us being here, safe, while Beckham and Horn are fighting to save the helpless.”

Riley nodded several times. “It’s the ugly truth about war. Only a brave few fight while the rest of the world sits back and watches.”

“It’s been like that for centuries,” Kate said.

“Yup.” Riley picked up the book again. “Aliens, huh?”

“Beats zombies, doesn’t it?”

Riley pursed his lips and changed the subject. “Listen, Doc, I know you and Beckham got this thing going on. I kind of got a magical ability to read people like that. And I just want to say…” He paused as if he couldn’t find the right words.

“Riley, it’s not like that,” Kate said, her cheeks growing warm. “We’re just friends. I respect him.”

“He’s a good man. A good leader. Never been married, you know. Really hasn’t had many girlfriends either. He cares about us more than himself. So I guess I’m just saying don’t mess with his heart. He’s probably got the biggest one out of any Delta Force Operator to ever walk this planet.”

Kate was completely taken aback. “I—”

“It’s okay. I’m probably overstepping my boundaries here, but I see the way he looks at you. I can tell he cares about you. When this is all over, I just hope…”

“I care about him too, Riley,” Kate said.

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled. “I know.”

“You sound surprised. I thought you had this all figured out.”

“I did, I did. You know, just good to hear it’s reciprocal.”

They shared a laugh and then fell into companionable silence. Kate imagined Beckham, Horn, and the survivors winging their way toward the island. She closed her eyes and said her own little prayer, pleading with God or whatever was out there to watch over them. To watch over them all.

Beckham slowly opened the door and swept the tactical light on his new M4 into the tunnel. On reflex he pulled his scarf over his nose and nudged a Variant corpse away from the door. A pungent stench filled the space.

Beckham took a guarded step inside, playing his beam over the way ahead.

Nothing moved.

He turned and motioned the others forward, his gaze falling on the boy he’d given his gas mask to. The child’s chaperone grabbed his hand and told him to close his eyes. Cries and whimpers from the civilians followed as they inched forward. Beckham brought a finger to his mouth. Knots formed in his stomach as he took in a breath and proceeded slowly. Beams from flashlights danced across the slaughterhouse, crisscrossing blood-splattered walls and mangled bodies.

Beckham thought of Horn and his daughters. No man should have to experience what he was going through. And no child should have to endure the horrors surrounding them. He hoped to God that Kate was right about the risk of infection being minimal.

A low croaking stopped Beckham in his tracks. Balling his hand into a fist, he stopped the group and swept his tactical light over the concrete until he found the source of the noise. Just as he feared, one of the Variants was still alive. How, he wasn’t sure. Its legs were a twisted mess of exposed muscle and ligaments. Blood oozed from multiple bullet wounds, and one of its ears hung by a thin strand of cartilage.

Chow joined Beckham at his side. “Christ, man. How is that thing still alive?”

The Variant dragged its broken body toward the group, prompting several screams of alarm.

“Keep quiet,” Beckham ordered. He stepped past Chow, leaving about twenty feet between him and the Variant.

“Tell the adults in the front to shield the kids from this,” Beckham said.

Chow nodded and returned to the group.

Beckham waited a moment and drew his knife. The Variant clawed the air with one hand and crawled with the other. Kneeling, Beckham prepared to jam the blade into the monster’s skull. Its eyes followed his motions, studying him, a hint of humanity still left inside. Without further hesitation, he brought the knife down into flesh and bone. There was a pop from the bulging sucker lips and then one last gasp of air as it fought for a final moment of life.